Karla Kassebaum

Have you ever noticed that spring has an obvious affect on people? Neighbors venture outdoors. Smiles abound. Attitudes lift. Deep cleaning desires surface.

A few weeks ago I enjoyed seeing warmer weather hint at the end to a long winter. My daughter retrieved her shorts from the closet. My hubby cleaned out the garage. Our dog loved her walk and the white blanket in our yard finally melted into the ground. Finally another season gestured its arrival.

Then the next day it was as if I’d been catapulted to Alaska — I looked outside shocked to see snowflakes the size of crumpled tissues falling to the ground. Okay, maybe a little smaller than crumpled tissues, but they were enormous! My energized outlook quickly melted.

I don’t know about you, but I often find myself looking forward to the next thing (which in this case is warmer weather) rather than enjoying whatever the here and now brings (which right now is a forecast of more snow). It isn’t that looking ahead is bad, but I find that if I don’t arrive at a balance, it can taint my outlook on today.

So today I choose to ignore the newly fallen branches and scattered leaves in the backyard urging us to rake once again and I refuse to allow the approaching storm to affect my mood. Instead I will grab a sweater and slippers, and see what fun unfolds indoors today with my family. After all, soon warmer weather will be here to stay and I’ll get my fill.

Happy New Year! We had a wonderful two-week Christmas break — no homeschooling, slept in, went sledding, attended holiday festivities and parties, ate foods we don’t normally eat, stayed up late, built snowmen, and played endless games. I’m all for spontaneity, adventure, and new things … but there is a time when the routine brings refreshment. This week would be one of those times.

After meals of leftovers, appetizers, and endless munching, today I cooked. Now I didn’t think that was such a major feat, until the aroma floated from the oven to my daughter’s bedroom.

“Mom, what are you cooking?” she said.

“A turkey and wild rice.”

“Really? Right now? It’s in the oven? You promise that’s what’s for dinner?”

As soon as I said ‘yes,’ she squealed in delight just like when she opened her karaoke machine at Christmas. I didn’t realize a home-cooked meal rated up there so high. Then it hit me … we’re back to routine and I’m cooking nightly again.

So as I sit here tonight with my candles lit, my door shut, and my soft instrumental music strumming in the background, I’m renewed, refreshed … and grateful to be back to my evening writing time too.

There sure is something wonderful about routines — especially after a break. Maybe it’s that we go back to our daily life refreshed and what we saw with sunken eyes and dark circles two weeks ago as drudgery or obstacles, today is viewed with fresh insight and smells like a new outlook.

Whatever it is — enjoy the moment!

A close friendship is a treasure. When life gets rough, a true friend is there to give support and encouragement. When we just need to vent, a true friend listens to us ramble. When we have food in our teeth, a true friend lets us know.

Such a close friendship is hard to find. I grew up moving around about every two to three years. I didn’t cultivate deep friendships to lessen the heartache when we moved next. But when I met Sue in my freshman year of college, everything changed. We never lost touch and we continued to grow closer even though physical distance separated us. That was twenty-three years ago.

When I have something weighing heavy on my heart, I can tell Sue and know that she will be praying for me. When she asks how I’m doing, I know she genuinely wants to know the answer … and waits to hear it. When I need a good laugh, being around Sue is a sure-way to get my laughter fill. And when I need to see the bright side of a difficult situation, she offers great truthful insight. Her friendship is priceless to me.

Difficulty abounds in our world today — the struggling economy, uncertainty surrounding so many, marital difficulties, and the threat of job loss. Daily, sadness and fear are flourishing. Too often in the midst of such challenges, we choose isolation instead of friendship.

It reminds me of what I cling to and what my necessary anchors are. I think of what truly matters.

My relationship with God is my ultimate form of peace, security, and guidance. The love and support I receive through my relationship with my husband and daughter blesses me daily. And my friendship with Sue reminds me that a true friendship goes deeper than a situation, miles, or even a season of life. Each looks differently, but all serve a very important purpose.

Take time today to remember what truly matters.

Friendship isn’t a big thing — it’s a million little things.  ~Author Unknown